Amanda's Watchers
by Julie the Tall Terror
Summary: Amanda proves you can't watch an Immortal who doesn't want to be watched... emphatically. Methos gleefully concurs. But MacLeod has it easy, right? Poor Joe is stuck making compromises as always. Featuring snarky comments, swearing in old languages and haggling. Thanks to beta LadySilver!


gift for idelthoughts on the Highlander holiday shortcuts 2018

...o0o...

Joe Dawson looked down at the long fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt and back up to the face of a beautiful woman. Her smoldering eyes locked with his as she draped her other arm around his shoulders.

"No, Amanda," Joe refused firmly. "I will not."

Thwarted in her goal, she leaned in to whisper a warning into his ear, "Then we are at an impasse."

Amanda tossed her hair in defiance, only to be distracted when she sensed another Immortal arriving. As she stepped away, Joe released the breath he was holding and grabbed the edge of his bar for extra support. The very person Joe wanted to see walked in the door, his assignment Duncan MacLeod, who Joe hoped would prove an ally in his cause.

"Hey Mac. I don't suppose you could get Amanda to lay off framing our guys for her heists?" asked Joe by way of greeting when MacLeod approached the bar.

Amanda was forestalled in her usual welcoming kiss to MacLeod when he asked her, "You're trying to put your Watcher in prison?"

When Amanda didn't look inclined to answer Joe said, "Has succeeded. We still haven't gotten the last one out of jail."

"What of it?" she replied airily to MacLeod.

"Well..." MacLeod began hesitantly as he took off his coat.

Amanda cut her eyes at his waffling, thoroughly unamused and declared, "I don't give out free shows."

She said it with such primness that MacLeod couldn't fully suppress his snort. It was very like the time she hadn't disputed her previous experience as a prostitute, only argued that she was never a cheap one. That was Amanda's way of having principles. Though MacLeod quickly schooled his face, it was already too late. With icy silence, Amanda abruptly spun away from the bar and disappeared into the crowd, moving in the general direction of the ladies toilets.

"She said she gave up larceny," MacLeod protested weakly to Joe.

"She has, sort of. As soon as she locates a replacement Watcher, she plants items she stole years ago in our guy's car, home," he cleared his throat, "or pockets. Then she tips off the police who are all too happy to reopen a cold case."

"I can't blame her for not wanting Watchers around. How is she so good at spotting them now when she never knew about Watchers before?

"Oh, she's found her Watchers for centuries and bolted. She just didn't know what they were there for and probably didn't know for certain if they were following her specifically. Some cultures she lived in didn't allow tattoos, so she had nothing to connect us together across time," Joe explained and with a slightly aggravated side look to MacLeod added, "Until you told her."

"Have Watchers turned her into the authorities before?" asked MacLeod as Joe poured him his usual drink.

"Not according to our records and I've told Amanda that," he replied and held up a placating hand before MacLeod could protest. "I know that doesn't mean it couldn't have happened, but it's a serious risk most Watchers won't take. Even if they hid their actions from other Watchers, chances are a criminal Immortal will want revenge on the person who turned them in and might actually track them down."

"Especially after they were incarcerated for it."

"Yeah," Joe replied. "I get it, of course Amanda is questioning the times she was caught for her crimes. But what I am certain of is that Watchers haven't turned her in this century. She won't listen to me when I tell her she's punishing us for stuff we haven't done!"

"Probably because she's scared Watchers might decide to 'lose' a camera full of incriminating video at a police station," MacLeod speculated.

"We don't take video."

"But you do take photos. Joe, you once said most Watchers didn't use computers, but that changed. Phones take photographs! I see people doing it everywhere and talking about putting them on Friendbook. How long until Watchers start doing more than snapping pictures on street corners?"

"Facebook," Joe corrected him.

A pinging sound interrupted them. Joe pulled out his glossy smartphone, but rather than view his new text, looking at the phone gave Joe an idea.

"Don't you mean 'how long until a beheading is caught on surveillance?' You think most Immortals stop to look for security cameras before making a Challenge? A lot of back alleyways and warehouses have them now to protect businesses. I have three on this bar and they aren't easy to spot. You can't count on the Quickening frying the recording either, it uploads live to satellites. You guys are in danger of being found out by the world like never before."

"So, to protect our secret you'll delete it from servers, but you'll keep a copy for the Chronicles, is that right?"

Joe opened his mouth to defend himself, but MacLeod didn't give him a chance. "Joe, you once asked for the tape that blackmailer tried to use against me. How long until every Watcher is equipped with video recording devices, too?"

"Mac, phones can record video," was Joe's exasperated reply to his friend's ignorance.

Holding up his phone's display, he played back a video he'd just recorded of the last ten seconds. Joe's own face was visible as he warned MacLeod about the dangers of security cameras. MacLeod looked shocked as they both then heard Mac's voice from off screen repeating his reply and the clip ended.

Having rendered MacLeod speechless, Joe finally read his new message informing him that Methos was arriving and grabbed two bottles of beer. He walked slowly out from behind the bar, leaning on his cane more than usual and led the way across the room. It was something of a novelty to know who the Immortal was before MacLeod did and Joe didn't bother waiting to see MacLeod's reaction. Instead, Joe brandished the beer he held in Methos' general direction when the door opened and he continued onward to an empty table.

As the two Immortals approached, Joe heard MacLeod bringing Methos up to speed on their earlier topic of conversation regarding Amanda.

"Punishing the Watchers for her own crimes isn't an appropriate form of justice," MacLeod was saying as he dropped into a chair beside Joe.

"It is fitting to Amanda," replied Methos, who took an extra moment to scan the room, before choosing a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"She's been gone a long time. Where did she go?" MacLeod wondered.

"Off framing another Watcher, no doubt," replied Methos absently as he looked at his phone. "I've got to find a better weather app. This one didn't warn me at all that it was about to rain and I forgot my umbrella."

"Never mind that. She'll be back any minute and I need a solution before she returns, old man," Joe said. "You got any ideas?"

"If only there was someone who could help?" Methos asked wistfully without looking up from the phone he was now texting rapidly on.

MacLeod waved a hand in front of Methos' face to force him to look up at last. "Well, what would you say to convince her?" he asked.

"I'm sure there is someone here who possesses the perspective MacLeod needs," Methos replied a bit louder. When no guiding voice replied, Methos leaned back his chair precariously on two legs and craned his neck to look into the nearby booth.

"Help Mac solve his moral dilemma. Please?" Methos prompted the person sitting in the booth behind him.

The annoyed face of Joe's daughter Amy appeared suddenly from around the edge of the booth seat where she'd been attempting to conceal herself. Her eyes met Joe's and he could only shrug in reply to her frustration of getting caught out. Especially when she'd done a rather good job of moving through the bar while Methos' back was turned.

Amy asked, "How'd you know I was here?"

"A bird told me," he said. "Now, tell MacLeod how you would feel if you noticed a man in the flat next to yours trying to secretly take photos of you?"

"You know we don't do that!" protested Amy.

"Why not assign a woman to watch Amanda, if that is the problem?" Methos asked.

"Are you kidding?" Amy responded as she gave up her hiding place with resignation and sat down beside Joe with a huff. He held his tongue waiting to see how his daughter reacted next. After all, Methos asked for her view specifically. "Amanda would frame a woman as herself and we'd never get our Watcher out of prison," she said.

"I'm sure Interpol wouldn't mistake an African or Asian woman for Amanda," MacLeod suggested. "Or anyone else who looks absolutely nothing like her."

"It's a good point," Methos said to Amy.

"She'd still frame them as accomplices anyway," argued Amy. "And we'll be no better off. Interpol thinks Amanda entices men into taking the fall for her and tends to be merciful. Maybe they'd believe she seduces women too, but what if they didn't?"

"Ouch," Methos sympathized. "I imagine Clara wasn't impressed when they accused Archie of that."

Joe glared at him and Amy pursed her lips as both were disturbed that Methos not only knew the name of a Watcher recently assigned to Amanda, but the wife's name, too. But Methos didn't notice their reactions, he was back to staring at his phone and tapping furiously on it.

"You know we only take pictures in public places. Legally," Amy insisted again, almost in tears she was so peeved. "Watchers aren't stalkers."

Though that delusion was drummed into every Watcher recruit, Joe refrained from intervening. She'd either learn to justify it for the sake of preserving history and ensuring that Immortals were never forgotten – much the way Joe had - or she'd abandon the life of a Watcher when it was shattered.

The two Immortals sensed Amanda returning then and MacLeod took the opportunity to say, "I think you'll find every Immortal objects to the permanent record photos become and dislike the idea of a free show," he quoted Amanda's earlier statement to him and Joe. "Just because Amanda is unabashed doesn't give anyone the right to take liberties."

Amanda's stormy expression cleared somewhat when she overheard the last of what MacLeod said. As she joined their little party and gave MacLeod a peck on the cheek, Joe noticed her hair looked a bit damp and she'd obviously touched up her makeup. Now that MacLeod had placed himself in clear opposition instead of helping and Methos only seemed amused as he put away his phone, Joe steeled himself to continue arguing with Amanda alone. To his surprise, Amy beat him to it.

"Amanda," she began hesitantly. "Would you tolerate a female Watcher?"

"No," was Amanda's blunt reply.

"See? We'd be no better off," Amy said to the rest of the table.

MacLeod then promptly put his foot in his mouth by saying, "A man is for the best. Safer. If it weren't for the few Immortals who avoid the Game, there probably wouldn't be any women Watchers."

Joe didn't entirely succeed in turning his laugh into a cough, which earned him a startled glance from Amanda. Methos was conveniently drinking his beer to hide his face and therefore had time to apply a neutral expression when he put it down. MacLeod was oblivious.

Amy gave MacLeod an odd look and in surprise replied, "Most Watchers are women. Always have been."

"Really?" asked Amanda, suddenly intrigued and giving Amy her full attention. "But it's so dangerous."

Her hostility suddenly abated, Joe jumped at the opportunity. "It's tradition," he explained in the face of both MacLeod's and Amanda's amazement. "Only in the last couple of centuries have men become equally represented and taken more leadership positions in the Watchers."

"How? Most women worked at their own home or family business," said MacLeod. "Farms, shops and such."

"Which made them ideal Watchers," Methos finally chimed in. "The pay is rubbish. Even today only the upper ranks make enough to live on, but it was a boon for a housewife to have extra income of her own and she usually recruited her children. She could be any woman you pass by every day. The well-to-do matron making charity rounds, the parson's wife, the baker's daughter or the office secretary. Nowadays, Watchers are often in the same profession as their assignments. A physician, shop manager, museum curator or even the backup singer with the band."

"You're kidding?"

"Not every Immortal is a psychopath that must be watched via binoculars only. Many Watchers are in plain sight," said Methos.

"But what did those housewife Watchers back then do when their assignment left town?"

"Research or reassigned to newest Immortal in town, but most Immortals stay put for decades, some even centuries," said Joe. "MacLeod, your Watchers are often single and male because you're prone to wandering into unknown territory."

Amanda looked thoughtful and asked, "And during times when only wealthy women were educated? What then?"

"Most men then couldn't read or write either, right?" Joe answered. "Field agents verbally reported to a supervisor who wrote down the Chronicles. Women had more autonomy to move about to Watch and report, while men were usually stuck for hours in a pasture, behind a shop counter or office desk or in a factory. She could make a 'social call' or 'borrow a cup of sugar' from her neighbor, happen to 'chat' with a nun while visiting a grave or just pretend to 'gossip' at the market."

"What about Challenges?" asked MacLeod.

"Well, Quickenings aren't always recorded with the most accuracy, then or now," admitted Joe. "Lightning can kill you even if you don't think you are too close. But two Immortals plus a freak lightning storm after which you see one Immortal the next day... basic math says the other guy's headless."

"Even so, our lives are so violent," Amanda stated in equal astonishment as she too found it difficult to imagine. Then she looked pointedly at Amy and exclaimed, "Oh, I see why the Watchers recruit women. Lineage."

"Got it in one. Not that it is infallible, a midwife could lie or a doctor's signature be forged or infant adopted. But usually being a mother was deemed more reliable proof that she was mortal than a man's claim to have sired a child. And the descendants from those women were trusted to be mortal."

"Is that how you got in?" Amanda asked Methos. "Claimed to be the grandchild of a Watcher?"

Methos shook his head. "Like Joe said, recruitment of men increased lately and that included people outside the family lines. Otherwise, Joe wouldn't be a Watcher either."

"I know this next question will sound morbid, but why don't you guys just nick a new recruit's arm to see if it heals before inducting them into the Watchers? This is not like the past when infection could kill from even shallow wounds or the shame of being treated like criminals to prove innocence or guilt." MacLeod was referring to the once popular policy of scalding an accused person's hand. If they showed signs of healing, they were freed. If not, they were believed guilty and died from either infection or execution. "It would keep Immortals from becoming Watchers again."

"Oh, headquarters has thought very carefully about how to prevent a repeat of that," Joe answered, rolling his eyes at Methos' smug expression. "However saying to a stranger, 'we'd like to recruit you, but first take these antibiotics for the wound we'd like to gash on your arm,' isn't the best way to get people to join. What about those allergic to the medication? Also, do we require every person prove they are mortal? It would insult those born into the organization. Guys like me recruited later would be angry that we had to prove ourselves if others didn't."

"Office politics? That is their excuse?" asked Methos with delight.

"Well, some are still in denial that another Immortal would try it," Amy told him with one raised eyebrow. "You aren't supposed to know about us, after all."

Amanda stared at Amy's boldness before her expression turned crafty in a way that set Joe's parental instincts on edge. Amanda leaned over to Methos and whispered in his ear, "Want to trade?"

Methos smiled as he answered, "Nope."

Amanda rolled her eyes at him. "Amy," she said pleasantly. "How would you like to see Tahiti? Capri? New Zealand? Cape Horn?"

"Amanda!" Methos exclaimed, suddenly sitting up in his chair. "Bagsy!"

Amanda ignored him and continued listing off destinations, "Rio? Singapore? Hong Kong? Toyko? New York?"

"She isn't afternoonified enough for you."

"You aren't bang up to the elephant yourself," Amanda shot back at him and folded her arms defiantly.

"You wake snake too much," Methos stated in a 'let's be reasonable' sort of tone.

"Get a new gobermouche! She's a bricky girl."

"Yes, she is and she doesn't deserve to be a toad eater at a squash!"

"Oh, like you powdering hair and barkin' a knot is fun?" she answered dismissively.

He thumped his half drained beer bottle on the table top and growled, "Duc te whooperups."

"Blob-tale parish pick-axe," she retaliated and she fluttered her fingers at Methos in a gesture Joe didn't recognize, but clearly was meant to be insulting from Methos' reaction. Even MacLeod's face turned red.

"Codi paisa r ol piso," Methos snapped.

"Skilamalink scobberlotcher!"

"Nunu!"

Amanda hesitated, her next comeback dying on her lips unsaid. She and MacLeod were giving Methos confused looks. Joe didn't recognize what Methos said either as he'd struggled to keep up with their exchange once it left modern English.

"Did you just call Amanda a baby in ancient Egyptian?" Amy interrupted at last. "What are you even arguing about?"

"You, Amy," MacLeod explained for them. "Amanda wants you to be her Watcher."

"No, she doesn't," interrupted Methos acidly. "Amanda, tell Amy you aren't serious."

"Enough of the collie shangles you two," said MacLeod to the older Immortals.

"Amy, it'd be great and I'd never put you in prison, of course," Amanda promised cheerfully.

Amy exclaimed, "That's blackmail!"

"So, is he allowed to keep the Watcher he wants, but I'm not?" Amanda asked incredulously pointing enviously at Methos.

"You don't have this joker's skill at disappearing for centuries at a time," Joe said, trying to make himself sound sympathetic to calm her down. "Sorry, Amanda."

She sat back with a sigh and a glare, making Joe worry that he'd just inspired her to attempt to vanish for a century or two herself. If the Watchers were to have any chance of keeping track of these three Immortals in centuries to come, they had to find a balance. MacLeod's and Methos' reasons were temporary at best, but not so problematic as Amanda.

"What do you want, Amanda?" Joe asked seriously. "What will it take to convince you to permit us to keep your Chronicle, your history, so that your life isn't someday forgotten?"

Joe wasn't above pleading his case and Amanda took a long moment to think about it before she asked, "Watchers usually go into the same line of work as their assignments? Did I hear that right earlier?"

"We aren't going to help you steal jewels or money," said Joe quickly drawing a line there before she could get her hopes up.

"Not anything like that," she said smoothly as though Joe was being silly. "Something of mine that I'd like back. Only I cannot steal it myself without getting caught."

Amanda drew out the suspense, clasping her hands in front of her smile and tapping her long nails together. "My fingerprints."

"The Watchers can't make Interpol's case on you disappear," Joe protested.

"That's why I'm only asking you to delete my prints from their system and keep them out…. forever. The FBI as well while you're at it."

"Oh, is that all?" MacLeod scoffed. "Why not ask them to drive the getaway car, too?"

"Isn't that what I have you for, MacLeod?"

While the two of them bickered, Joe considered her request carefully. As one of the Immortals older than than one thousand years of age, continued coverage of Amanda was a high priority. Especially as she wasn't the type to settle down on holy ground for years at a time. Though she wasn't favored to win the Game, that wasn't the ultimate purpose of the Chronicles. History was. Given that Amanda's life was unusually varied for an Immortal and likely to continue to be so for as long as she lived... it made her a coveted assignment. Joe knew that as the Watchers stubbornly continued assigning new people to Amanda, they risked provoking her into more extreme measures if he couldn't persuade her accept them.

"We won't frame anyone for you," he finally answered, negotiating. "Just delete the prints, not replace them with someone else's.

"You aren't serious?" MacLeod exclaimed at Joe. "Amanda, don't you use gloves now anyway?"

Amanda ignored him and said to Joe, "I'll stop planting merchandise, but I'll still ditch you guys when I spot you, so you better improve your hiding skills."

"No good. How about the Watchers pull the paper cards from the smaller police stations for you, too?" Joe asked carefully.

"You think stuff that old will get scanned into their system?" she asked in alarm.

"Yes, they already are," Joe asked. "And think of this, some jobs are requiring people to submit their fingerprints in order to be hired. How long until all of it is in one worldwide database?"

It was a new prospect in this digital age and all the Immortals had reason to be genuinely scared of it. However, Amanda didn't know the extent to which Watchers kept the secret of Immortals when they could. While a Watcher couldn't stop an angry mob from hanging Amanda for theft in the past, they could tidy up the grave after she left town prevent suspicion that her body was gone. Today, a Watcher would grab the morgue paperwork after an Immortal fled, depriving doctors from tracking down a mystery miracle patient. Those records were handy additions to the Chronicles as well.

It was a fine line, but keeping the secret of Immortals also fell under the Watchers' mandate, provided it didn't involve interfering with a battle or chatting with your assignment. Once enough decades had passed, Watchers ensured that Immortals' fingerprints, police sketches, crime scene DNA samples and such quietly disappeared when they were able. However, Amanda didn't need to know they were already disrupting her paper trail.

"All prints now and forever," she countered. "And I pretend Watchers aren't there."

Joe shook his head. "Imagine needing to scan your hand to board a plane and the system declares you a match to an eighty year old crime, Amanda," he said and he let her sweat a moment before continuing. "Past and current prints only. I can't promise the future ones after I'm gone. You don't frame or ditch your Watcher. Final offer."

"Deal."

"How is this not interfering?" MacLeod asked.

"Because we need your cooperation when you guys know about us," explained Joe.

"But you didn't have to compromise with me, Joe."

"Didn't I?"

MacLeod looked thoughtfully back at Joe and acknowledged, "Yes, you did quite a lot so we could be friends and sit openly like we are now having a drink together."

Amanda leaned forward and asked Methos, "What did the Watchers give up to keep you around?"

"That's classified," Amy said abruptly before Methos could answer.

Methos let his Watcher's answer stand and instead he asked quietly, "Isn't there something you ought to be doing, Amanda?"

Amanda's eyes widened at the hint. "Yes, thank you for reminding me. I'll just... right now... goodnight everyone," she half stuttered and nearly forgot her coat in her hurry to leave the bar.

The others stared for a moment before MacLeod wondered aloud, "What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing much," Methos answered nonchalantly. "She just needs to retrieve the jewels before the police arrive."

Joe sat up in alarm as he jumped to the most logical conclusion and asked, "She planted stolen goods here?!"

"Not here. Outside. In a car."

"How do you know?" asked MacLeod.

"She sent me a text earlier," Methos replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Same time she told me Amy was hiding in the booth."

"Whose car?" Joe asked. "We haven't put a new guy on her yet. Amy and I are the only Watchers here."

"Guess we'll never know," Methos said with a shrug. "I did warn you she was framing another Watcher."

The end

Glossary:

bagsy - mine first (Modern British)

afternoonified - sophisticated (Victorian British)

bang up to the elephant - perfect (Victorian British)

wake snake - get into mischief (American, 19th century)

gobermouche - nosy person who meddles in other people's business (Old Irish)

bricky - brave (Victorian British)

toad eater - poor relation hired as a paid companion (Regency British)

squash – a party you can't get out of attending (Regency British)

powdering hair - getting drunk (Georgian British)

barkin' a knot - wasting time (American, 19th century)

duc te - get lost (Latin)

whooperups - inferior singer (Victorian British)

blob-tale – trash talking (Middle English)

parish pick-axe - a prominent nose (Victorian British)

codi paisa r ol piso - don't be upset over what you can't change (Welsh)

skilamalink – shady, untrustworthy (Victorian British)

scobberlotcher - lazy person (Old English)

nunu - baby, fragile (Ancient Egyptian)

collie shangles - arguing like a dog over a bone (Scottish)


End file.
